Open Wounds
by NothingToProveNow
Summary: And now I lay on a gurney as three EMTs try to save my life. I believe I am still alive. My heart still beats, I should know, 'cause it's all I hear. A swishing sound inside my ears and head. My body feels so cold. It hurts to breathe. I think I'm dying.


**Story Tile: Open Wounds.**

**Disclaimer: It may kill me to say this but I, Hannah do not own the Twilight Saga or Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan. I do however own a crazy cat named Serena.**

_Summery: My name is Isabella Swan. I am twenty years old. I was born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. And this is my story._

**Couples In Story: **Edward/Bella | Emmett/Rosalie | Jasper/Alice | Charlie/Renee | Carlisle/Esme | Dale/Sasha | James/Victotria

**Chapter One: **Slowly Dying.

**Forks, Washington.**

**DeKaneikova Hospital.**

**5:30 AM.**

See, I'm not sure if I'm really alive or not. Today I overdosed on a illegal drug called heroin. Basically you jam a needle into your arm and get fucking high as a cloud. I was already wasted on vodka, whiskey and hydrocodone pills to notice I injected way too fucking much.

And now I lay on a gurney as three EMTs try to save my life. I believe I am still alive. My heart still beats, I should know, 'cause it's all I hear. A swishing sound inside my ears and head. My hands feels sweaty and cold. My body feels so cold and hot as the same time. I hear the siren of the ambulance. My eyes are closed. I lay still.

And I don't move. I can't move. Everything hurt. Why can't I just die already? Fuck. As I get wheeled into the local ER I feel a gush of cool, wet air greet me.

Hands move and I feel myself get dropped onto a ER bed. Much softer then the rubber padding on the EMT's crappy, shitty bed.

But before I go any farther, you should hear how I got here.

** Arizona.**

**Apartment of Demitri Klianikov.**

**5:00 AM**

**Twenty Four Hours Earlier.**

He's mad at me. I know it. Demitri slams a fist down on the table. "Get back here! Now. You owe me money." he says. His brown eyes bug out of his head, giving him a TV look. His greasy, brown hair hangs free, tickling his face and mine. I can smell his breath. Whiskey, chips and mint. It stings my eyes.

Demitri grabs my right arm. "One hundred dollars. Now!" he splits out. A drop of his nasty saliva dribbles down my cheek and lands in a huge splash on my white tank top.

Stuffing my hand into my pocket I had him five twenty dollars bills. He slams the tiny brown bag in my hand and presses a kiss to my lips. A laugh fills the room and a evil glimmer shines in his eyes. "James, Victoria-Grab her." he hisses out.

Before I feel or see it coming a needle is jammed into my neck and my world starts to fade to black. I wake in a car hours later and find out Demitri took his friends private jet to Washington. Why Washington I do not have a fucking clue. My head aches and my neck is sore. James, Demitri's brother smacks my left cheek with the back of his hand. His girlfriend, Victoria Norman laughs. "Hit her again, James!" she says, a dark look covering her face.

His hand snacks my again and a bit of blood drips down my face from my bleeding, sore and purple-ish blue nose. It stains my shirt with drops of scarlet, staining the shirt.

I sit up in my seat. "W-Where are we, Mitri?" I ask. James raises an eyebrow at me and Demitri nods at him.

"Forks, Washington." they say. I shake and notice a cool sheen of sweat covering my body. James sees this and hands me a needle. "Go ahead darling'. Shoot on up. Enjoy the poison before it kills you." he said as he tosses a capped needle at me.

I crawl to grab it from the back of the seat less van I am in. I catch a flash of green trees outside the moving car. I tie a rubber band around my right arm and smack it three times before jamming the needle in. My thumb presses the plunger and I feel the cool, burning feeling of the drug moving through my veins.

It is then my world starts to get fuzzy. Hours later the van stops and James and Demitri carry me from it. I land hard inside a nasty, cheap motel room. James and Victoria set another needle down on the table by me and crush three hydrocodone pills inside it. They bubble and fizz as they meet the whiskey and vodka mix Victoria mixed up. They press it to my chapped, dry pink heart shaped lips. I cough and sputter before downing the whole glass full.

James and Victoria leave, making out. Demitri kneels down before me as I lay on the floor, a thin pillow under my hair. A soft look covers the Russian's face. He gives my arm a pat "It's for your own good." he whispered before leaving me. I want to scream his name out but my voice can't seem to work. Words can form on my lips. I lick them and somehow sit up and grab the needle they left. I jam it into my arm and let the drug overtake my body. I lay on the floor in dirty way too big jeans that lay low on my thin hips, held up by a leather skull belt, a thin almost see through white, blood stained tank top and combat boots in black.

My body starts to shake. I hear screaming. Someone is pounding on my motel room door. I want them to go away. I want to sleep. It is then the door opens and two males walk in. One shines a light in my eyes. "Miss, Miss!" he says. "Can you hear m-" and then my eyes close and my world fades to black.

**Forks, Washington.**

**DeKaneikova Hospital.**

**5:30 AM.  
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"Can you hear me miss?" he voice asks. I groan and feel a sharp pinch of a needle go into my left arm. "Miss?" The voice asks me again. Why won't the person shut the fuck up? Can't he see I'm trying to die here? I hear the beeping of my own heart on the hospital monitors. Cool rubber gloved hands search my jeans for a wallet, for my ID.

"B-" I pause. My mouth feels like it's full of cotton. I hear pure silence for a moment.

"What?" the same man says again.

My eyes open. I'm greeted by the bright white lights of the local Washington ER.

The person I heard talking is a blond man who's lab coat says Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Another face comes to view. And my God is he fucking hot. No-Not hot. Beautiful. Like a fucking Greek God. He is in light blue scrubs. Six feet some inches tall and his eyes are the color of the grass. A bright, amazing green. Then another thought fills my head and I stare up at the ceiling.

"Bella. My name is Bella." I rasp out. A smile crosses the blond doctors face. "Welcome back, Bella." he speaks.

My name is Isabella Swan. I am twenty years old. I was born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. And this is my story.

**AN: Reviews welcome. No spam or rude comments please. Next chapter soon. **


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